Here Comes The Bri-Black Organization!
by princette101
Summary: When Gin and Vodka are assigned to infiltrate a pre-wedding party, they thought it would be a piece of well, cake. However, during the preparations, certain things are being revealed, and complicated situations are rising. When a misunderstanding at the event causes them to bond in a way they never had to before, true thoughts begin to show through a ice cold facade...
1. Chapter 1

"Got it," Vodka said breathlessly, hurrying down the building's steps. Covertly, he handed off his briefcase to his partner, Gin.

Once he opened the case to check on the contents, Gin ground his cigarette butt under his heel. Without a word, he strolled over to the passenger side of the car. Clearly, he wanted Vodka to drive, presumably so he could read the latest case. After adjusting the mirrors-no harm in being cautious- Vodka slid the car into traffic. Although his eyes never strayed from the road, he could hear Gin going through his routine. _First he'll pick out a cigarette, from the case he always carries,_ Vodka thought while switching lanes. _Then he will pull out his lighter, making sure there's enough fluid in it. Once he has it lit, he'll smoke it for about two minutes before pulling out the case._ Once he heard the click of the lighter, Vodka smiled to himself. The routines were the best part of the job, given how unpredictable the workload is.

 _He'll make a bit of a 'tsk' noise this time,_ Vodka guessed. One of the many little games he played with himself was to see exactly what events lead to Gin's reaction. A 'tsk' meant that the job was a simple one, something below his level. If he made some sort of low "hmm" meant it was either time sensitive, complex, or rather long; something with an element of risk. They've been in a dry spell of 'tsk' jobs lately, and while Vodka was itching for something different, he did enjoy being just a little relaxed. It was when Gin made no noise at all that Vodka began to get worried. Shifting his vision over, Vodka was surprised to see his partner frowning at the case file. _That hasn't happened since the time we had to search that forest for a message hidden in a bird nest…_ Distracted, Vodka couldn't pry his thoughts, or his eyes, from Gin.

"Straighten up." Gin ordered, rolling his cigarette aimlessly between his fingers. "You're drifting towards incoming traffic."

Cursing under his breath, Vodka shifted the car's position, trying to keep it smooth. Unable to hold on to it, Vodka asked a burning question, "What's the latest assignment, partner? Something interesting?"

Gin flicked his cigarette butt out the barely opened window. "A recruitment mission, while being undercover. Some expert in physics is getting married, and we're due to attend her pre wedding party."

" _Definitely_ an 'hmm' sort of thing then." Vodka muttered, turning into their apartment's parking garage.

"What did you say?"

"Ah, nothing."

Most people, if they live on the fifteenth floor of a building, they would take the elevator. Gin always refused to, and by association, Vodka did too. Once, a neighbour asked them if they had any sort of reason. Being a master of lies, Gin concocted some story about how they got trapped in one while they were younger. _He could probably tell someone that he used to be a hippo and they would believe it,_ Vodka thought, trudging up yet another flight of stairs.

Upon entering their apartment, Gin headed towards the coffeepot, not even taking off his coat. Vodka shrugged off his outwear, neatly placing it on the coat rack. He slid the case file out of the briefcase, placing both items on the table by the window. Once the coffee was ready, they settled into their respective armchairs before beginning to discuss the assignment.

"The job itself wouldn't take too long," Gin said, pausing to take a long sip of his beverage. "Although the preparations seem to be rather…lengthy. And detailed as well."

Flipping the file towards him, Vodka skimmed the description. "Tea at the Unlong, ballroom dancing, and black tie attire?" He let out a low whistle. Just thinking about the lavish events was overwhelming.

Gin shifted his gaze, from Vodka to outside the window. "Well, I'll be dealing with the actual business. You're just supposed to be a plus one for me."

Face burning, Vodka's thoughts swarmed with alarm bells. _Surely that doesn't mean…it couldn't possibly…_

"According to the file, we're meant to be lawyers from some sort of firm from overseas, distant cousins from the bride."

 _Oh thank God,_ Vodka thought, taking a relieved sip of his coffee. He owed a lot to the organization, but _that w_ ould have been just a bit too far. "Yes," He croaked before clearing his throat. "That seems like it could be plausible."

Gin nodded, spinning the file to face him. "As always, we'll be provided with the usual. ID, back stories, some sort of script…the works. It's just about a month away." Distracted, his nimble fingers fumbled as he tried to light another cigarette. Observing the action, Vodka was curious. _He doesn't usually have two so close together. Unless something's bothering him._

Before he could try and think what it could be, Gin abruptly stood up. After crossing the room to shed his coat, hat, and shoes, he strolled towards his room, without any sort of goodbye. Vodka sat, studying the view beneath him, sipping at his coffee. It has been a while since Gin got so jumpy; it was just another job after all. Sure, it was a bit complex in its details, but still. Nothing too tricky. Compared to some other missions, this would be like stealing candy from a baby.

Vodka was spurred by some emotion. He loved weddings, and he liked pulling his own weight. This was one perfect chance to show off what he could really do. After his string of slight blunders, Vodka needed something to prove himself. Draining his mug, Vodka began to put on his shoes. Although he just got in, he felt driven to go back out. Once he wrote a hasty note, playing on the idea that Gin would even wonder where he was, Vodka stepped out. Clattering down the stairs, he began to piece together the local geography. Maps came easily to him, so he knew that the nearest library was twenty minutes away on foot. An easy walk. Nodding to the person that was coming in, Vodka slipped out of the apartment building.

Although it was a while since he hit the pavement, Vodka still knew his shortcuts, back from the old days. Sure enough, there was someone working the same corner he used to, a long time ago. After flicking a coin into the girl's outstretched hand, he kept walking. He thought a lot, in general, but the past was not something he enjoyed dwelling. He was out of that life, and never wanted to even remember it.

He made quick time, with his powerful strides, and soon he was in the library. With high vaulted ceilings, shelves upon shelves of books, and a cast of colourful characters, it was the perfect place to blend in. Along with doing a bit of research. Finding the section he needed, Vodka loaded up with books. Nestled into a corner, he sat down with a heap of books. Few people walked by, but no one paid him much mind. _Hidden in plain sight,_ he mused, flipping through some pages. _Could get used to it._ Time seemed to be sped up and slowed down at the same time. Libraries were weird that way.

Just as he was beginning to drift off to sleep, eyes starting to burn, his cell phone rang. Jumping up a bit from his seat, Vodka frantically searched for it among the countless books. "Hello?" He whispered, not wanting to get in trouble for talking too loudly.

"It's me. Where are you?"

Heartbeat beginning to slow down, Vodka checked his watch. He was gone for two hours. "I'm at the library." He said, smoothly out a crease in his pants. "I'll be back in a bit."

For the second time that day, Gin didn't bother to say goodbye. Sliding his phone back in his pocket, Vodka began to get ready to go. Not wanting to waste any more time, he didn't bother to put his books back. Instead he dropped them off on a 'to be shelved' cart, and quickly exited. Although the morning was clear, the skies were now pouring down with rain. Turning up his collar, Vodka cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. Pedestrians and puddles dotted the wet sidewalk. Slipping through the crowds, Vodka was soon at the steps to his apartment building. And, after suffering the long trek up the stairs, he was soon at the door to his apartment.

Gin was sitting by the window again, staring at the streaks of water streaming down the glass. With a book in his hands, it was clear he was in another world. He turned to coolly stare at Vodka standing in the doorframe. "Come in," He said in a voice that made it clear it wasn't a request. "Before you start a flood."

Obediently, Vodka did as he was told, shutting the door behind him. Upon shedding his wet coat and shoes, Vodka promptly went to the kitchen, to get a warm beverage. Leaning on the counter, he took off his sunglasses, to wipe the raindrops off. Soon, the coffee was ready, his glasses were clean and he moved to go to his room. Now, he was already cold from being out in the rain. So when Vodka felt a chill go down his spine, he knew something was wrong. He turned, and nearly dropped his coffee when he saw Gin's hand on his shoulder. They rarely engage in physical contact, so this was out of the blue.

"I have to go get drinks with a client tonight," Gin said, not registering anything odd about the situation or dropping his hand. "Vermouth has some papers. Pick them up?"

Wordlessly, Vodka nodded. Behind his dark glasses, his eyes were staring at his shoulder. More specifically, the hand still resting upon it. A light brown, it was slender, with long fingers. Gin kept his nails short, but they did look oddly shiny. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. Soon, Vodka was staring at Gin's hair, a blond-sliver waterfall. It was just as shiny as his nails, and looked rather soft. Taking a long sip of coffee on the way to his room, Vodka tried, and failed, to stop thinking about how attractive his partner was.

He waited outside his room, while he listened to Gin getting ready to go out. As soon as the front door clicked close, Vodka sprang to action. Taking off his damp clothes, he changed into something a bit more casual. One long sleeved navy shirt and black jeans later, he was almost ready to go. Reaching deep within the depths of his closet, Vodka retrieved the one pair of sneakers he still owned. _Damn._ He thought, studying his appearance in his mirror. _This job really has done a number on my wardrobe._

Vodka gave himself a little pep talk –dealing with Vermouth needs a heck ton of a self confidence- and headed out the door. Halfway down the hall, he turned around and checked the key rack. Sure enough, Gin took the car. With a muttered complaint or two, he got ready again, this time to ride his motorcycle. Zipping up his leather jacket, Vodka headed out the door again, this time for good. Given the fact that no one was around to see it, he took the elevator down to the garage. Sure enough, the Porsche was gone, but the bike remained. Roaring out of the garage, Vodka's thoughts began to wander. As he steered through the streets, still damp with rain, he wondered who Gin could be meeting with.

 _Can't be the boss,_ he thought as he turned a corner. _He would have called me in for that. Or would he?_ Gin was mysterious. Up to the hand on the shoulder incident, the most inmate moment they had was Gin holding a gun to the back of his head. Vodka shuddered a bit, thinking about that moment, and all his _other_ mistakes. It wasn't a comforting thought. Most thoughts were not pleasant, and these certainly were of the unpleasant variety. Thankfully, Gin had an appalling memory. It was quite probable that he forgot all of that. The bad news being, of course, that Vodka had to suffer through them alone. Things were getting better however. As more time passed, as they both got used to the other's mannerisms, things got easier. Gin stopped treating Vodka like a child, and Vodka stopped thinking that Gin was a god. As Vodka turned into Vermouth's apartment building, he had to smile to himself. Sure, things were rough, but they were okay.

Once he saw that was a valet outside the door, Vodka decided to just park on the street and hope for the best. He was reaching the limit for daily social interaction, and he just knew Vermouth would spend all of it. As he entered the impressive foyer of the building, he hugged his helmet close to his side. Vodka missed his hat, as it was one of the few things he thought of as a disguise. Sure, his sunglasses could count, but he did use them more for protection, not disguise. If he could wear his hat _under_ the helmet, he definitely would. After a speedy walk through the ridiculously large lobby, Vodka found himself in an elegant elevator.

Leaning against the railing, he tried to make his short hair be a bit more interesting. _Thank God I knew she lives on the top floor,_ Vodka realized as the elevator ascended smoothly. _That would have been an awkward conversation with the apartment manager downstairs._ He was nearing his destination when he realized that he almost wanted to talk to the manager. Strolling down the well lit and quiet hallway, Vodka thought a bit more about it. He was interested by the man, who had both a warm brown complexion and kind eyes. The nameplate on the desk said something like Donatien Lyon; a friendly name for a friendly face. Distracted, Vodka managed to walk by the one door on the floor. Summoning his courage, he pressed the doorbell.

He heard, from behind the door, some rustling and some footsteps. Soon, Vermouth opened the door, dressed in a sheer robe over a dainty camisole and shorts. "Ah, there you are," She nodded, raising the empty wine glass she was holding. "Took you long enough. Come in."

Closing the door behind him, Vodka took the time to notice the surrounding. "I didn't know you had the penthouse," He commented, studying the great view of the city. "Seriously, you're one person and you got this? Sheesh."

"Mmm, there's some perks, when you're as attractive as me. Not that you would know, of course," Vermouth said the insult almost offhand, as she rummaged through her kitchen. "Do you need anything to drink or whatever?"

After failing to find anywhere suitable to sit, Vodka chose to stand. "Uh, that's okay. Just wanted to pick up those papers."

"Hey," Vermouth turned to snap at him, bottle of white wine in hand. "No need to get right into business, is there? Talk to me."

Realizing that he was going to be there longer than he would have liked, Vodka resigned himself to crossing over to the kitchen area. He set his helmet down on the massive island and rested his hands on it. "Well, you have a lovely apartment. Wish I got that view. Or the space."

Smiling that pretty little smile of hers, the one that looked venomous, Vermouth poured her wine. "Yes…it's quite showy, so to speak. Did you see that new manager? He's a looker, if you know what I mean."

On instinct, Vodka began to nod but caught himself. "I'm sure you would look at him in a different way. Given the difference in our gen-uh, I mean the distinct separation of our romantic interests…"

"Save it," Vermouth demanded with an eyeroll. "You look like a puppy, and it's going to make me sick. I've seen the way you look around certain men, Vodka. I know, even if you don't."

"I just wanted those papers-"

She held up a hand, a clear cue that Vodka should probably stop talking. "I wasn't done. Not sure why I _care,_ your issues should be far from my mind, but for some reason, I want to help you. So listen up, you oaf. You got that assignment for a reason, and I am not going to let you ruin it."

Vermouth took a sip from her wine. When she swallowed, she set down the glass, and leaned over the island. "I've seen your file. I know that you'll do a reasonably good job at mingling with high society, so that's covered."

"What?" Vodka sputtered. He was used to feeling outmatched, but Vermouth was taking it to another level. "I didn't even know I had a file, yet alone that others could read it!"

Twisting a lock of her hair around her finger, Vermouth shrugged. "It wasn't all that interesting, so don't you go thinking you're special. Getting back to the subject at hand, have you ever considered taking the sunglasses off?"

"It's not as though I can't," He said, getting annoyed at Vermouth's backhanded insults. "It's just that it would cause a large amount of unnecessary pain."

She seemed almost perplexed at the comment and grew quiet. After a moment, along with some more wine, she snapped her fingers. "Eye drops," She said with triumph. "A drugstore could get whatever you needed in that department."

Vodka was starting to digest this information, as it wasn't all that terrible of a situation. Just when he was starting to think that Vermouth had some good ideas, and wasn't as heartless as he thought, she snatched his glasses from the bridge of his nose. He was about to complain when he realized that the room wasn't bright enough for much discomfort. _Huh,_ Vodka thought, watching as Vermouth observed the glasses. _That's one pro for poor lighting._

"Just get those eye drops, do not wear that old hat of yours, and upgrade your suit. Then you may have a chance to pull off that job of yours," She said, sunglasses dangling from her outstretched finger.

He grabbed them and slipped them on again, when something came to him. "Have you ever engaged in, um, different activities?"

"I have a history of various companions," Vermouth answered simply, picking at a loose thread. "I'm rather flexible in that particular sense…not that it's any of your business." From under the island, she pulled out a sheaf of paper. Flinging it on the counter, she gestured to it, before draining her glass.

After skimming the information about logistics and various timetables, Vodka folded the papers into his pocket. "Thanks," He struggled to get the words out, as he processed the last five minutes. "You're-"

"Save it, sport," Vermouth cut him off as she walked around the island, to the door. "I know what I am, and as much I love a compliment, I'm not in the mood for one from you. Just leave while I'm in a good mood."

Grabbing his helmet, Vodka started out the door, when Vermouth grabbed him by the arm. "One more thing," She said, her tone more serious. "While Gin mostly swings for my team, he's not in the straight and narrow, if you know what I mean." Before Vodka could make a reply for her remark, she pushed him out the door, and shut the door.

On the elevator ride down, Vodka just tried not to feel put off by Vermouth's pushy nature. That's just how she was; always thinking that she was the best. She wasn't normally one for advice, but even when she gave it, it was condescending for the most part. But, it also was usually some decent advice. When he stepped off the elevator, he mentally added a trip to the nearest drugstore on his to-do list. Distracted by his own needs, Vodka nearly missed Donatien's farewell.

Standing up, Donatien waved slightly. "Have a safe ride home. It's pretty wet out there," He said, nodding towards the doors.

"Uh…yes." Vodka stammered, stopping mid stride. "Thanks." With that awkward goodbye, he sought the refuge of the outdoors. Strapping his helmet on tightly, he began the late night journey home. The streets were slick but also relatively quiet, making for a peaceful, and slightly boring, ride. Streetlights became blurs in puddles, and everything seemed just a little uneasy. If he was a bit more poetically inclined, Vodka would say that it was reflective of a muddled pile of emotions.

Parking the bike in his assigned spot, Vodka took note that Gin wasn't home yet. With that in mind, he didn't bother being quiet when he entered the apartment. Trying and failing to find some sort of food that was at least a bit filling, Vodka settled for a lone of water. As he drank, looking over at the empty but cramped apartment, there was an uncomfortable feeling pressing down on him. _No,_ he thought fiercely, clutching his glass so hard he thought it could shatter. _I'm not ruining what I spent months building because of some feelings and advice. I made it too far to let it go, for the sake of a silly crush._

There was too much to lose, and too little to gain. Things had to stay the way they were, or else…Vodka's life could be ruined. Again. Sick of his thoughts, his feelings, and everything else, Vodka downed a duo of sleeping pills with a swig of water. As it began to take effect, he turned off the main lights, before heading to his room.

The door was clicked closed, he changed into something suitable for bed, he took a swig of mouthwash (promptly spitting it out after thirty seconds), he got into bed, took off his glasses, and the lamp was turned off. As he was getting drowsy, and was on the brink of sleep, something made him get up out of bed. Into the hallway, he padded towards the main room. Flicking on the main light, only barely noticing the pangs of pain, he turned and crawled back into bed. As soon as he fell into bed, Vodka felt his exhaustion seep away. He couldn't think anymore. Not about his mounting fears about the future, or the fact that he goes out of his way to do the littlest of things to make Gin more comfortable. All of that could wait. Right now, Vodka wanted nothing more than a dreamless sleep.

Gin came home around three o'clock in the morning. After he saw the light was left on, he briefly paused outside Vodka's door and listened. When he made sure that Vodka was in fact sleeping, Gin slipped into his own room.


	2. Chapter 2

If the other day was full of everything that didn't make sense, then the next was the definition of normality. Vodka woke up normally, to the sound of his alarm clock at 7:05 AM. Had his normal breakfast, a cup of coffee with a piece of toast. Set off to do his normal job, engaging in all sorts of illegal activity. It was always easy to push personal matters out of one's thoughts while running around blackmailing people. But, at the end of every workday, everything came rushing back in full force. Not to mention the fatigue, the kind that makes your mind also disconnect from your body. It leaves you in a space between realities. Of course, the state Vodka was in was due to not eating anything on the healthier side of the spectrum. Combined with the past week of not going to bed before midnight, things weren't going well for him. But, that was his normal.

After a boring and long day of business, he was ready to drop. The past night had exhausted him to a point of an extreme _. Too bad there's no such sleeping pill that worked for when you're awake,_ he thought, glancing out at the passing scenery _. Although I'm sure some genius probably already made it_. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a puff of air. It wasn't so much as a weight was being pressed on him, but more like he was being stretched like a piece of taffy. Vodka, for one, didn't want to be there when his mind snapped.

As the drive lengthened, with the air of silence present when Gin drove, Vodka began to realize where they were going. More lights began to pierce the dark night, while the sound of chattering people, going to their next bar, wafted by. The area was home to one of the restaurants that the Organization used to hold meetings. It's what made them different from the regular sort of thugs. Those people met in bars, out in the open, mingling with the innocent public. They had entire dining rooms clear out for a measly exchange of information. Just as much as it's impressive, it's always terrifying. As always, when the car was parked, when they exited the car and entered the restaurant, Vodka's thoughts melted away. Whenever it was time for business, he put his personal life on hold. Even when they were schmoozing with the richest people in the city, trying to get funding, he couldn't focus on anything but the job. It got him this far, so it should get him farther.

Slipping into the hushed environment, Vodka studied the surroundings. There was the table he sat in when he got his job, the chair by the bar when he saw that bartender with the great arms and…Vermouth. Sitting across from an attractive man, and apparently also arguing with him. As Gin finished smoking a cigarette, Vodka watched as the man tossed up his hands. Clearly done with the conservation, he went across the room, to sit with what appeared to be his friends.

"Deal with her," Gin ordered, disposing of his spent cigarette. "I'll get you if I need you." Without waiting for a form of acknowledgement, Gin strolled off to the "Employee Only" door in the far corner. Once he took off his coat, folding it over his arm, Vodka set off for where Vermouth now sat alone.

He just got comfortable in his seat, arranging the coat on the back of his chair, and setting his hat on the table, when a waiter appeared. He slid a plate of pasta in front of Vermouth and asked if she wished to have another drink.

"Whatever whiskey is on your top shelf," She snapped, rubbing her temples. The waiter nodded, clearly not fazed about her attitude.

"Anything for yourself, sir?" The waiter asked Vodka, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. After Vodka asked for a glass of ice water, he simply nodded again and walked off.

As he smoothed out a wrinkle in the tablecloth, Vodka looked carefully at his dining partner. He didn't know much about Vermouth and had little motivation to learn more. It was clear that she wasn't the easiest to get along with, what with her strong personality. She didn't exactly give off a warm aura. He wondered how the meeting in the back was going. He couldn't remember why this meeting was important, which most likely is why he wasn't invited to said meeting. Things were getting more complicated by the day. He focused on Vermouth.

"What do you want?" She asked, still looking across the room, fixated on her former dinner date. "I have no need for a lap dog tonight."

"Why are you here?" Vodka didn't want to waste his time here. Better to cut to the chase. "For that matter, who is that man?"

Their conversation lulled, by the return of the waiter. He delivered their beverages, and a steaming plate of shrimp pasta, before making a swift exit. The tense atmosphere got a little easier to take, with the appetising smell of garlic filling the table. Vodka could feel his resolve melting away. The day was long. His hunger was great. Unfortunately, Vermouth, excellent in her field, noted the change in his attitude.

"I'll make a deal with you," She drawled, swirling the whiskey in her glass. "I'll let you have my dinner, and you're not going to expect an answer to your questions."

The deal was clearly rotten if you were looking in on the deal as an outsider. Vodka did not have this luxury. It was ten o'clock at night, he hadn't eaten for hours, and, well, he liked shrimp. So, after he gave a nod and after a smirk from Vermouth, Vodka pulled the plate towards his end of the table.

Vermouth waited, politely, five minutes before asking her own questions. "How're those preparations going?" She asked, pretending not to care. This was one of her many skills. She used it often, making it one of her favourite tricks. "Everything going…according to plan?"

After a sip of his water, Vodka shrugged. "If we have a plan, I don't know enough about it to tell you anything. Why are you so interested?"

"No reason," Vermouth set her drink down and twisted a ring around her finger. "Maybe I'm just deeply concerned about the success rate of this mission. It's difficult you know. Mingling in high society isn't exactly a cakewalk."

"For you, maybe. I've had my fair share of experience in that field."

Vermouth couldn't help but roll her eyes at the comment. "Sure you have. I'll believe it when I see it."

Setting his fork down, Vodka glanced up. His expression was still unreadable from behind his sunglasses, but Vermouth got the sense that he was confused. "Do you mean you're going to _be there_?"

"Wasn't that in your case file?" Vermouth took a gulp of her drink and then shook her head. "Human Resources. They're getting lazier by the day." She was lying through her teeth now; she didn't mean that to slip.

"Why do I need to even go then?" He demanded, folding his napkin into a triangle. "What's the point? You two are fine together."

"It's a matter of…" She trailed off, feeling oddly hesitant, although she knew what to say. "It's a matter of loyalty."

" _Loyalty._ That exists here?" After the remark, Vodka sighed, putting the napkin on the table. He was going too far into it. Losing his composure would do him nothing but harm. It wasn't worth it. Not after he got this far.

Vermouth waited again, another couple of minutes. When it was clear he wasn't saying anything else, she leaned in a bit, ready to say her piece. "Listen," Her voice was softer than before, her edges smoothed out. "I don't think you understand the magnitude behind this assignment. This could, possibly, change everything for you."

To match her, Vodka leaned in slightly to say his reply. His voice, however, still was rough, as it always was. "I can manage my own assignments. You do not have to feel sorry for me."

Before Vermouth could even begin to formulate some sort of response, the back room door opened. The meeting was over, and her time was up. "We're not done with this conversation," She hissed, then flounced her way to the restroom.

Vodka just wanted a moment to process all of this, and maybe finish his pasta, which was actually quite delicious. However, as things move quickly in his area of business, he was rushed out the door as soon as Gin approached the table. Before long, he was driving home, trying to keep his eyes open. They were only ten minutes away from their apartment when Gin began to speak.

"Did you get anything on why Vermouth was there?"

"Yeah, she was just being a bitch. Using her work connections for her dating life." It wasn't exactly a lie. He was pretty sure that was what she did…although he couldn't be exactly sure. "Did I miss anything at the meeting?"

"No. It was about the preliminaries for next quarter. I'll give you the files to look over."

"Roger that."

They were silent for the rest of the ride. And silent for the walk up to their apartment. And still silent when they both retreated into their rooms for some sleep.

It was a quiet night.

"Ya know, when I started here, I really didn't think there would be _this much_ paperwork," Champagne griped, dropping another stack of folders on their desk. "Yeah, I need some fresh air."

Even as they left the room, Vodka didn't look up from his own work. Champagne was…only a mild annoyance. If they shut up for five minutes, it wouldn't be too bad. They had a point though; end of quarter paperwork was always a rough couple of days. Even the ones with the strongest willpower found themselves drooping after a few hours. Offices were full of people either updating and filing their old case files or trying to figure how to go about the company's budget. The science department too, they had to figure out what projects were worth continuing, and what equipment needed to be replaced. In a weird way, it was just like a regular business.

"What was the name of the man we killed on February 16th?" Gin asked, glancing up from his computer.

Vodka flipped through his files and answered, "Depends. There was Amatore Ungaretti in the mountains, and Youta Cremaschi in the forest." There wasn't a reply to the information, just the sound of a keyboard clicking. Even if was a good day, which it certainly was not, there wouldn't be a form of thanks.

People often came in and out of the room, simply because it was one of the more convenient locations. Filled with about a dozen desks, computers, and a wall of filing cabinets, the room was a central hub. The coffee pot in the corner was also popular. Private offices did exist, but Gin always seemed to avoid those and favoured those in a group setting. If it was for the company, he sure didn't express it. However, his stress was awfully visible. Vodka kept the paper files in reasonably decent shape, but Gin was ultimately in charge with handling the information. First, the files had to be transferred to a digital format, then the information had to be checked to be sure it was accurate, and then a conclusion of each assignment had to be written. Given Gin's clear memory issues, the task was not an easy one. They've been at it for a good two and a half hours now, and they were still only halfway through February. At least they could be a little more casual. By that, their hats were off, Gin's hair was tied back, and their shirtsleeves were pushed up.

The person fiddling with the coffeepot finally gave up and left. It was then that Vodka realized that they were left alone. The fact, which should have been common knowledge, made his heart beat a touch faster. Deciding it was probably just from lack of sleep, he started to read the next file on his desk. But then he had to remember _why_ he didn't sleep much last night. His brain seemed to be trying to connect pieces of a puzzle.

After he got to bed, he couldn't stop his brain from replaying the events in the restaurant. Why was Vermouth suddenly so interested in him? What made this job so special? Lastly, why on Earth was she going to even be there with them? Two agents together was a risky move, but three was almost unheard of. He couldn't shake the nagging concern that maybe, maybe, something was feeling wrong. Gin was being too jumpy for such a simple job, Vermouth was close to being blatant about something he didn't want to hear about sexuality, and his own thoughts were getting more mixed up by the minute. At one given moment, he was fine with everything, and things were okay. The next, everything came crashing down. His anxiety about fitting in with his co-workers. The latest job and the acting it would require. Pretending that he was okay with everything he did. And then, Vodka was seriously thinking that he was-

"Whew, it's really windy out there!" Champagne entered the room, looking refreshed. "Sunny too." They dropped into their seat and started to examine a file.

The interruption, thankfully, startled Vodka out of his thoughts. He checked over his latest work and gathered up a bundle of files. "I need to pick up some things for the week. I'll be back soon." Without waiting around to see the consequences of his abrupt action, Vodka grabbed his outwear and left.

Such a sudden action wasn't entirely infrequent for the pair, so Vodka thought nothing of it. Vodka used to think that he knew Gin, as much as he could possibly manage. Given their history together, and factoring in their own working environment, sudden movements weren't considered that uncommon. Besides, they needed some groceries, thanks for it being the end of quarter. The more stress they were under, the less Gin wanted to go out. He never wanted to go out, to be honest, so the trend could also just be a series of coincidences.

"Whatever," Vodka muttered to himself, went down two flights of stairs, and put on both his jacket and his hat. "I just need some fresh air, that's all. Everythin' alright."

"You sure about that?"

Vodka just hit the last step, when that phrase was said and came very close to slipping on that last stair. Thankfully he caught himself. Clutching the handrail, while also willing his heart rate to slow, he glared at the unexpected visitor. "What is it to you?"

The stranger, a woman with her hair in a loose ponytail, put her hands up in a mocking gesture. "Whoa, you sure are jumpy today. I was just coming up from the garage to get a drink. You heading down there?"

Now safely on the floor, Vodka studied the woman a bit more closely. She looked like anyone else at their company; a little rough around the edges, tired yet alert eyes. Her hair seemed pretty thick, a dark auburn colour, tied into a ponytail. There also was a noticeable feature of her right leg; a delicate rose gold prosthetic.

She noticed that the lack of a reply probably stemmed from her leg, so pulled her skirt up slightly, for a better look. "It's a beaut, isn't it? Got it fitted last week."

"Yeah, it looks pretty…sturdy. Do I know you?"

"I would hope so, you've seen me like, every week," When that got nothing but blank stares, she sighed. "I'm Marissa? Marissa Blanchett? I work down at the garage?"

As he studied her again, Vodka finally remembered. She was, indeed, the person he saw whenever he had to sign out a car. "Right," He said slowly, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Luckily he didn't have to.

"Eh, it's okay," Marissa shrugged with a smile. "Not many people remember me. Did you need a car, by chance?"

He just managed to stammer out a yes to the question, making Marissa's smile turn into a grin. "Great!" She said, gesturing to the hallway. "Just let me grab a drink and I'll be down there in a second. Unless you want to come with."

Usually, Vodka would have refused. But, given the fact that alone time equalled thinking time and thinking time was not a good time at the moment, he felt like it would be better just to go with her. As an added note, he was actually pretty thirsty himself. So, they took a detour to a break room.

"Thank God," Vodka muttered to himself, upon finding the room empty. One talking partner was enough for him. Marissa gave him a side glance as she looked through the fridge, but got him a bottle of water anyway.

Sitting on the counter, Marissa's eyes lit up. "Hey, want to see something neat?" She didn't bother waiting for an answer before setting down her water and pushing a small button on her right ankle. A small compartment opened, revealing a tiny, but very sharp, dagger. She pulled it out and spun it with a surprising amount of skill.

"Handy, isn't it?" She patted her leg fondly, still spinning her knife. "I'm glad that Doc let me have a knife hole, I've always wanted one."

"Isn't it more of a compartment?" Vodka asked, keeping an eye on that knife. "It has a door on it."

"Okay, but consider how freakin' cool 'knife hole' sounds." They fell into a silence after that remark, and just drank their water. Marissa put her knife away when she was finished with her water, and soon after, they headed out.

As far as walks to the building's basement go, this one wasn't all that bad. It was for sure better than that time he attempted going down the stairs in the dark. He broke his nose that time around. However, today, the lights were on, and there wasn't any oil spilt on the stairs, so they were safe.

"Well, here it is," Marissa gestured to the door to the garage as she unlocked it. "I think your usual is still here, the VW-Porsche 91, right?"

The door now unlocked, Marissa flipped on the lights and went to her office. It really was just a counter with the sign out clipboard, with a desk, board of keys, and some filing cabinets in the space behind it. Aside from that, the cavernous parking garage was full of automobiles, ranging from common to rare, depending on the mission, or the driver's mood. Vodka liked using the 91, simply because of its history. He used in a case one time, and although that…could have turned out better, he got sorta attached.

"You better not crash this," Marissa's eyes twinkled a bit as she both held in a laugh and gave him the sign-out sheet. "I heard what happened to that attack helicopter."

"Hey, that wasn't _my_ fault! That time at least."

"Sure. Just get it back to me in one piece, please. What do you need it for, anyway?" She asked her question over her shoulder, as she got the keys. She leaned on the counter when she came back. "Are you going to murder someone? Do a shady deal? Talk in code?"

Vodka finished his signature, handed over the clipboard, and got his keys. "It's just an important errand, no big deal."

"You guys get all the fun, I swear," Marissa griped, flipping through her clipboard. "Try to be back within three hours okay? Other people might want that one, and trust me, you guys can get very grumpy when the car you want isn't there. Dealing with that is not the best part of my job. Let me just check to make sure there's no rats in there. It happened. More than once."

When they reached 91, in spot B21, Vodka let Marissa take the keys and check the car over. "Alright," She said after a quick search. "You should be rat free. There's some reusable bags in the glove department, and for the love of God, be careful with any bloody bodies, the stains are a nightmare. See you in three hours!" With her final remarks and a cheery wave, she started walking back to her office.

Feeling more than slightly bewildered from the past ten minutes, Vodka got into the car, and after checking once more for any rats, headed out. Once he entered the streets of the city, he relaxed. He was in the car, in control, and he knew what he was doing. Although he thought the drive would help soothe his nerves, it turned into the opposite, rather quickly.

Something, or rather, someone's actions just kept nagging at him; Vermouth. She wasn't all that close to Vodka, but recently it seemed as though he was developing a strong interest, almost an amusement, towards him. All that also seemed primarily due to their latest mission. Which was just yet another thing that didn't make much sense. Recruitment missions, however important, aren't considered to have such a high status among mission types. Considering that Gin, and himself for that matter, were not an overwhelming charismatic force, there was no reason why they should be assigned for this. The event itself was also simply too public to be relatively useful. Were they supposed to put their target off guard so she would say yes to get them off her case? Why did they even need a physicist? Didn't they already have a ton of chemists? Or were they biologists…was there a difference?

He was getting a little distracted.

Focusing on the road, he noted that he just hit the halfway spot to the grocery store. Twenty minutes there from work, from there to home was fifteen minutes, and he usually went the route home to work via the twenty minute way, but that has been under construction for some time, so he had to get back via the grocery store route. That way was ten minutes longer, but if he hurried the shopping, he would get back under the three hour time mark. Which should be handy because they still had about two months worth of cases to get through.

Vodka pulled into the grocery store's parking lot with ease. As he was technically in charge of maintaining their household life, it was commonplace for him. Although they didn't shop daily, they have been getting better about keeping more food in the kitchen. Bread and protein bars were not the bulk of their meals any more. They still ate out a fair bit, thanks to meetings and stakeouts, but their meals at home were getting better.

That night Vodka figured that he could manage to make some fried rice, with tofu and vegetables. They still had some rice, but they were running low on the other ingredients. He got some leeks, carrots, and a variety of seaweed from the vegetable section. Gin didn't seem to mind his cooking, so Vodka figured that was a good sign. He didn't normally burn down the kitchen at least, which was for certain, a good sign.

While he got some tofu, Vodka found his thoughts latching onto the subject of his partner. He cared for Gin, that was true, but he always had. What Vermouth suggested, however, or at least what Vodka thought she suggested in an extremely indirect way, had no grounding. Sure, of course, Vodka wanted Gin to be as happy as he could be, it's natural. They lived together, spent almost all their time together, and had countless assignments with each other. Their relationship changed and developed over time, yes, and now they were indeed rather warm sometimes with each other. But all that did not mean that Vodka would ever want to date-

 _No_.

That single thought cut his train of thought off directly. His mind went blank, as it did once, back when he still considered himself a rookie. It worked back then, but lately, it seemed like his emotions were combating it. He squeezed the handles of his basket tightly. He couldn't retreat back into the past, that was a fact he couldn't ignore anymore, but. That didn't mean that he had to accept what he had been wondering. He always prided himself on developing his potential to be detailed orientated. For the past couple of months, he had started to notice little things. Small gestures of kindness Gin gave him during their missions. No compliments, but there were fewer of Gin's famous cold eye stares…the progress that had not been made before. His knuckles were turning white from his grip. Forcing himself to calm down, Vodka finished his shopping, paid, bagged his items, and headed home to put them away.

It took him until he got home to finally unclench his jaw, take a deep breath, and relax. He managed to get all the bags up in one go (using the elevator this time; what Gin didn't know and what couldn't get back to him wouldn't hurt him) and also got the door open without setting any of the bags on the floor. "It's the small victories, I guess." He muttered to himself, putting the bags on the counter.

Making a mental note to eat some lunch, Vodka started putting things away, taking care to leave the ingredients he needed for dinner on the side. To distract himself from his other thoughts, he began to mentally go through their cases from the past month. It worked both as a distraction and as helpful practice for the work ahead.

As he was trying to remember if they made a deal with Kaiti Spiros or her half-sister, Efthalia Stefanidis, he noticed the time. Quickly shoving yet another jar of instant coffee in the cupboard, Vodka grabbed his keys and headed out. As he started down the stairs, something began to nag at him. He forgot something, but he couldn't remember what. In any case, he didn't have time to wonder about it. He still had an hour and five minutes to get back, but being early still beat out being late. In this case anyway.

Vodka got about halfway to the grocery store when he realized one of his paper cuts started to bleed. That, in turn, reminded him that they were nearly out of a lot of their medical supplies. Taking a glance at his watch, Vodka decided the detour would be worth the risk. Five minutes later, he pulled into another parking lot, in front of a modest drugstore, which he recalled happened to be in the area.

Given that it wasn't exactly a prime time to go shopping for various medical and cosmetic needs, the store had little customers. As you entered, there was a long counter with the cashier, with the back wall also hosting the door to the back storage room along with various offices. Aisles lined the centre of the large space, and on the wall opposite the door held the pharmacy, which in turn had a counter along the wall with various over the counter prescriptions…and an extremely bored looking pharmacist.

Getting a basket for his shopping needs, Vodka glanced at his watch. He couldn't spend a lot of time here, given that he did honestly want to get back to work relatively quickly, but it had to be done at some point. He retrieved various odds and ends from their respective aisles, including bandages, gauze, medical tape, tampons, mouthwash, soap, and toothpaste. While he was going about his shopping business, the remaining customers all slowly paid for their purchases, and then left. As soon as the last customer exited the store, the cashier disappeared into the back room. After weighing his options, and also analyzing the situation, Vodka decided to look around the store until the cashier got back.

While the plan seemed to be the best one given the situation and options available…it got boring easily. As he stood, a bit awkwardly, looking at a display of perfume, Vodka felt that someone joined him in the aisle. Shifting his gaze to the left, while not moving his head, he noticed that the pharmacist stood to his left, also looking at the perfume display.

"Any chance I could help you?" The pharmacist said, sounding hopeful, giving Vodka a smile. "I could ring you up if you wanted to, or I could help you find something."

"I think I have everything, so if I could just pay-" Vodka stopped himself when he saw the pharmacist looking at him a bit too closely. Heat rose on his face as he snapped, "What's the matter with you?"

Putting his hands up in apology, the pharmacist winced. "Sorry! I just wondered about your sunglasses."

"What about them."

"Well, it's overcast. Either you're some sort of spy or whatever, or you have some sort of eye issue. And given that I'm a reasonable man, I would like to believe it's the second option. And also given that I'm involved with medicine, I would like to try and fix it if I could."

Vodka found it his turn to stare at his conversation partner. He dealt with numerous people who dealt with the trade of charisma and persuasion, and he had to admit this random pharmacist came close to joining those ranks _. He's confident,_ Vodka thought, still studying. _He has a kind of fire in him._ For some reason, Vodka got reminded of Gin, which then started to make his heart race a little.

"Well?" The pharmacist unknowingly interrupted. "Want to give me an answer?"

"I do have some trouble with them," Vodka admitted. "They burn when they see bright lights and stuff like that. My…co-worker said I should use some kinda eye drops to fix it."

Gesturing for Vodka to follow him, the pharmacist led the way to his counter. "Your co-worker is technically right. Eye drops are a good solution but are also a temporary one." Going behind his counter the pharmacist looked on the shelves of his station. "Your problem is due to your eyes drying out quickly, so I would recommend lubricating eye drops, known as artificial tears. I use them actually."

After fishing around in his pocket, the pharmacist pulled out a small dropper bottle. "These are pretty easy to use because you can just use them whenever you think you should." He picked up the bottle, and after removing the cap started to demonstrate. "You should wash your hands before you do this, just to be safe. You just pull down your lower eyelid, lower the bottle down while being careful not to touch the eyelashes, and squeeze out one drop. You close the eye and then open. Some leakage may occur, but that's normal, and can be simply wiped away with a tissue."

"So!" The pharmacist washed his hands again, afterwards then pocketing his bottle. "Interested in testing the product?"

Vodka snuck a look at his watch and winced. It's been close to twenty minutes in the store, and his timeframe was getting a little squashed. "I'll just take a box. I…have to get back to work." Vodka still couldn't manage lying easily, unlike his comrades, so luckily he could tell the truth this time.

"Oh! Oh, sure, I can check you ou- I mean, I could ring you u-" The pharmacist seemed to be a little flustered but soon laughed it off. "Sorry. Slow day. I can meet you at the cash register, I just need to find you the product."

With a nod, Vodka headed back to the front of the store. The pharmacist didn't take long getting the eye drops, worked quickly, and thankfully did not bother making any comments about the contents of his basket. As he gave Vodka change, the pharmacist smiled. "The expiration date for that brand is four months. So, unless you empty it before then, I'll be seeing you in about August."

Muttering some sort of polite goodbye, Vodka grabbed his bag of his purchases, walked quickly to the car and drove away. He spent the rest of the trip to work switching from cursing himself of wasting so much time to worrying about being late to cursing himself of his stupid emotions that kept influencing his thoughts. It wasn't the most relaxing drive of his life.

Due to his time management, or rather the lack of his time management, Vodka entered the garage four minutes after the time limit. To make matters worse, Marissa was dealing with a line of annoyed clients, and Vodka wasn't able to conjure the mood for pulling rank on them. So, he waited, anxiously checking his watch every minute.

"Finally," Marissa rolled her eyes as the last person exited. "I thought they would never leave. How was your-"

"I don't have time for this right now," Vodka slapped the keys onto the counter, and rapidly signed that he had returned. Without another word, he grabbed his bag from the drugstore and ran for it. Marissa watched him go, and sighed, rolling her eyes again.

Vodka burst open the stairwell door to the second floor, effectively startling the intern that stood behind the door. Usually, Vodka would probably have helped him pick up his papers and folders, which fell to the floor. It wasn't a normal day, and so, Vodka barely mumbled an apology as he hurried past. He hated being late. Especially when he happened to be late while meeting Gin.

Pressing himself up against the wall beside the open door to the group office, Vodka tried to control his breathing. He really wished he had some time to hide the bag from the drugstore but the situation couldn't manage any time for such actions. Taking one more deep breath, Vodka walked in. Nodding to Gin as though nothing happened, Vodka sat in his chair, put his bag on the ground, and took off his jacket, along with his hat.

"So," He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "How many reports do we have left to do-"

"Do you have the time?" Gin interrupted, lighting a cigarette, while also delivering quite the cold stare.

Vodka glanced at his watch before answering, "Sure, it's half pas-"

"Oh, so your watch _is_ working." Walking over to the filing cabinet now, Gin started to smoke. He didn't say anything else until he slapped a stack of reports on Vodka's desk. "I was wondering about that."

Ignoring the not so subtle dig, Vodka turned on his computer. Flipping open the first file, he clicked over to that case in their shared folder and started to type in the case's information. Satisfied, Gin returned to his own seat, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke behind him.

As Vodka got back to work, he noticed that his stomach didn't appear to be exactly happy with him. With an internal groan, Vodka remembered what he forgot to do at home; he didn't eat lunch. The next couple of hours were not the best of the day. Gin did leave to use the restroom at one point, so he was able to quickly scarf down one of the protein bars by the coffeepot. However, by the end of their day, Vodka wasn't exactly feeling nourished. As Vodka started to leave, he realized he left the bag by his desk. Turning back, he saw Gin pick it up.

"We…needed some stuff. I stopped by a drugstore on the way back," Vodka wasn't surprised when Gin merely brushed past him, pushing the bag into his arms. Letting his partner go ahead of him slightly on the stairs, Vodka studied the situation.

It seemed clear that Gin was pissed off; although he was acting as distant as he always acting, underneath the act, Vodka could detect a malicious tone that normally wasn't there. Learning from his previous encounters with this type of mood, Vodka chose to back off. As a side effect from this, the drive home turned out to be a quiet one. Gin drove.

Just like before, Vodka took his time leaving the garage, allowing Gin to get a head start, before heading up the stairs himself. Just as he predicted, Gin was long gone when he entered the apartment. Secretly relieved about this, as it meant he could finally have some time to relax, Vodka rolled up a piece of bread, eating it as he entered his own room. After changing from his work clothes to his black jeans and a crumpled light orange t-shirt, Vodka left his room, aiming to start on dinner.

Cooking for two turned out to be much better than cooking for one, Vodka decided, as he prepared and then started off the rice. And of course, it didn't hurt when you had actually pretty decent equipment. While his seaweed was re-hydrating, he set a pot of water to boil, in order to cook his aburaage. Quickly, when the water was boiling, he cut the carrots and prepped the pan with a splash of sesame oil. By then the water started to boil, and he cooked the aburaage, making sure to drain the remaining water from it. Since the seaweed hydrated, he added that the aburaage, and the carrots to the pan, and sautéed, making sure to coat the ingredients thoroughly.

Vodka knocked as softly as he could on Gin's door. "Hey," He said, also trying to speak softly. "I made some dinner. You eating tonight?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be out in a minute, you can start without me."

For the first time that day, Vodka finally started to eat something with a bit more to it than toast, protein bars, and just plain bread. Before long, Gin came and started to eat as well. Vodka couldn't help but notice Gin also wore some of his casual clothes; a silky looking tank top with a pattern of roses along with a pair of dark blue jeans. After he took a couple of bites and a couple sips of coffee, Gin spoke. "I should be able to finish the rest of those reports tonight."

Swallowing his food with a drink of coffee, Vodka relaxed even further. The food was decent, and Gin, for once, seemed to be pretty okay. "Sounds good. What do we have for tomorrow?"

"Just some meetings. First one's at ten, and there's another at twelve. Just some business for next quart-" The doorbell rang, in the middle of Gin's sentence, and he got up to get it.

"Vermouth." Gin didn't bother disguising his distaste for the woman. She rarely darkened their door, but when she did…well, she usually had some sort of reason at least. Not usually a good one. "What are you doing here?"

"My word," She chided as she walked in. "Is that any way to treat a guest?"

"It is when that guest is an unexpected and unwanted one." Either Vermouth didn't understand Gin's blatant hints, or she just simply didn't care his tone.

"C'mon, I need to talk to you. Privately." After a moment of hesitation, Gin led her to his room, where he then firmly closed his door. Vodka looked at his dinner, and then over at Gin's.

For some reason, he seemed to feel a little…neglected. He rejected the emotion as soon as he recognized it. A ridiculous notion, he decided. He took another couple bites, stood up, and took Gin's bowl over to the fridge. After some consideration, he decided to just leave Gin's coffee on the counter. It should stay warm for a while after all. While he did so, Vodka spotted the newspaper resting on the counter. He began to read as he ate, trying to distract himself.

Just when he was about halfway done with both his dinner and newspaper, Gin's bedroom door slammed open. "Fine!" He heard Vermouth say, in a voice that bordered on a shout. "Fine," She said again, this time more calmly. "You have your information, and I have my answer. I can see myself out." With a remark from Gin, that was too quiet for Vodka to hear, Vermouth slammed the door behind her. She came down the hall, rubbing her temples in frustration. Vodka didn't bother to hide the fact he was curious.

He started to ask a question but he changed his mind when he saw how tired her eyes looked. "Hey," He said, tilting his head over to the leftover rice. "You want some dinner before you go?"

Vermouth looked up, more than a little surprised at the offer. For a while, Vodka was sure she was going to refuse the offer. Then he turned out to be the one to be surprised, as she accepted the offer. As he fixed her a bowl, Vermouth pulled her hair up into a ponytail, re-clipping her silver butterfly barrette.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure. Water, please."

Before long, Vodka handed her a glass of water, along with a bowl of the rice and a fork. He sat in his own chair, and they began to eat together. Vodka almost finished his meal when Vermouth cleared her throat. He looked up, as she began to speak, "I might as well tell you the news myself. You know Gin."

"So," She took a sip of water before continuing. "You know your target, correct?"

"The soon to be Himari Robbins, yeah. The renowned physicist does some sort of complicated shit with some particles or whatever."

"Well, her fiancé's brother's wife just had that baby they've been expecting," After chewing, she broke the news. "So, the event's been pushed up a week. It's the 22nd, so not this week but next week. Gin told me you're up to date with your plans. I'm sure that you can handle this then."

Vodka could have sworn the mouthful of coffee he swallowed turned ice cold as he registered her news. She was right; if they were up to date with the plans that were drafted, they should be perfectly fine. But Gin, that known liar, wasn't exactly telling the truth about their progress. He couldn't be certain, as Gin didn't let him know the full plans, but for some reason, it seemed they just haven't been doing everything that the job required. Vodka didn't notice since Gin usually took point for their more complex assignments, but they were pretty lax about this. "Well," He said, looking at his rice, not at his new dining partner. "Yeah, this should be a cinch. I mean, we're on top of it so there's nothing to worry abo-"

"Yeah, you're not on top of it, are you."

"No," Vodka confessed, speaking around a mouthful of rice. "We're not."

Vermouth sighed, pulling her ponytail out, absently fluffing her hair so it rippled across her shoulders. "I figured as much. Of course, I've been keeping tabs on everything, but at least _someone_ around here is capable of the truth."

"We do belong to a criminal organization. You know that, right?"

Slapping a file folder from her purse onto the table, Vermouth made eye contact, as she drank a long sip of water. "Don't be cute," She said, setting her glass and her dinner aside. "If you two want to make this job somewhat less of a disaster, you have to listen to me."

Vodka took his turn to take a long sip of a beverage while maintaining eye contact. Unfortunately, his drink was much hotter than hers, so it didn't last as long as he hoped for. Coughing a bit, he cleared his throat. "You said before that this assignment was important but why can't we just get her at a less important event? In a private setting? And why does it have to be this physicist in the first place? It doesn't make any sense, and I want answers for once, damn it! You're being impossible to deal with right now and if you're so into telling the truth all of the sudden, well, maybe you should try it for a change!"

With that, Vodka stood up, scraping his chair back on the floor. After staring at the table, he sat again, finishing his meal in silence. Once his plate was cleared, he took his dishes into the kitchen and started on the dinner dishes. Not the best move he could have made, sure, but they needed doing. While he worked, Vermouth too, finished her meal in silence, not making a single attempt of conversation, not saying a word for once.

"Thanks." She said, bringing her own dishes up to the sink. "The food was actually decent. I'll see myself out."

Watching her put on her sandals, Vodka felt a pang of…something. Could have been the food he ate too quickly. Could have been remorse. "Wait," He said with a sigh. "Could you just sit down? I'll be done in a sec."

She padded softly over to the two chairs by the window and sat with her legs tucked in, skirt pooling around her. Sure to his word, Vodka joined her, after getting some more coffee. Turning her gaze from the view, she raised an eyebrow. "You know, I could kill you right here, given your increasing instances of disrespect."

"I won't stop panicking. But I could." After pointing a finger to prove her point, Vermouth absently started twirling her hair. "Look, I know I've been awfully cryptic here, but some things are just up to you to figure out. I'm not going to hold your hand through this."

"But what even is this?" Vodka demanded, setting his mug down on the table between them. "Is it just this stupid assignment?"

Vermouth dropped her hair to free up her pointing finger, which she directed towards the hallway. More specifically to the side with Gin's bedroom door. "No. It's that. Without you, Gin wouldn't even be here right now, and it's time for you to realize that, at least."

"How do you kno-"

"You are asking an awful lot of questions tonight," She groaned, rubbing her temples. "Call it a woman's gift or whatever, just accept it."

Taking a moment to do so, Vodka took a sip of coffee. A reflective sip. A sip that resulted in a painful mental parade of visions of his failures. The coffee tasted more bitter than usual. "Everything that we did together," He said slowly, still putting some things together. "Everything that Gin and I did could have been better if Gin did it without me."

Vermouth stood, muttering something about how hard it was to try and be a mentor. She came back with another glass of water, which she drank from before launching into a metaphor. Analogy. Simile. Some sort of literary device, Vodka couldn't tell the difference between them all.

"Look, you've wrapped wounds for him right?" She asked, to which Vodka had to nod. "Good. Yes. It's simple, some antiseptic, some gauze, some tape, it's done. But wrapping your own wound is another story. A long, and painful story."

She took another sip before her conclusion. "Look, you're sometimes more of a hindrance than a help, sure. But I knew Gin much longer than you have. Trust me, he wasn't the best at taking care of himself. He was a train wreck. Still is, but hey, at least he eats sometimes now."

They sat together, drinking at their beverages, each musing over the enigma of a man that they shared some sort of bond with. It was a nice moment, a quiet one, with an overall atmosphere of comfort. Their world wasn't what most would call nice, or quiet for that matter. Such moments were appreciated…although they were fleeting.

"Well!" Vermouth said once she drained the last of her water. "You've got my new files, there's a to-do list, calendar, updated backstories and such forth. I'll check in regularly, just to make sure this hellfire of an assignment doesn't burn too brightly."

Before he could say anything, a thank you, or maybe at least a goodbye, Vermouth slipped her shoes on, collected her purse, and left. As the door clicked closed behind her, Vodka willed his thoughts to relax for at least a couple of minutes. Grabbing Vermouth's new glass, he moved into the kitchen and properly finished making things look a bit more presentable.

Collapsing back into his chair, he continued reading the paper, while taking a drink of his coffee from time to time. While the sun outside dropped, his drink started to vanish, and the pages of his newspaper began to run out, Vodka heard a slight creak, from the hallway. Sure enough, Gin soon stepped through into the living area to settle into a seat at the kitchen table. A laptop and a mysterious unknown box joined him.

Once he finished both reading the newspaper and drinking his coffee, Vodka once again moved into the kitchen, leaving the mug by the sink, and the paper on the counter. He spied Gin's barely touched coffee from before, and, after checking to see if it was still warm, dropped it off at the table. Gin jutted his chin slightly, indicating the opposite chair, so Vodka sat.

His curiosity, once again, got the better of him. Vodka peered into the box, which he could see was open. He could also see it held a nicely organized array of barrettes, ribbons, elastics, and such for. In essence, for some reason, Gin had a box of hair care materials out in the open. He looked to Gin for at least some sort of explanation.

"Vermouth," He said simply, drinking some coffee. "She is taking an extremely unwarranted interest in this assignment for some reason."

Vodka scoffed, still looking through the box. "I've been noticing that. So, what's all this for?"

"She says that I need to do something with my hair for the job. Says it needs to be fancy. I don't do fancy," Gin cleared his throat, gesturing to the box. "Do you know anything about this?"

Torn between telling the truth, lying, or just hiding in his room, Vodka thought for a moment. "Yeah," He admitted, picking some things out of the box. "I can do something simple for you."

As Vodka finished gathering the necessary materials and moved to the other side of the table, Gin combed out the tangles in his hair in preparation. Already feeling awkward about this, Vodka tried to explain himself, "Uh, I could try to do some sort of side braid. Simple but effective, and, when you get the hang of it, it's pretty quick."

"Give it your best shot," Gin shrugged, pulling his hair to one side, for Vodka to work on. "I've never done anything with it before."

Gin smirked a little, as he watched his partner hesitate. "You can touch it. It doesn't usually bite."

 _Yeah, but you would,_ Vodka thought to himself, gently dividing the swath of silver hair into three sections. It's been a while since he tried to braid, but the familiar rhythm of crossing each section to be in the middle came back to him. It was so relaxing, he forgot that he should probably be explaining this. "You just have to alternate between bringing the left section to the middle and the right section," He said, continuing the braid. "When you finish, just tie it off with an elastic. Maybe, like, put a ribbon around it, or something, make it fancy and shit."

Taking a sip of coffee, Gin gave a small nod, not wanting to jostle Vodka's hands. "How did you learn this?" He asked, clicking through files on the open laptop, starting to fill out some forms.

Not sure why he would ask such a weirdly personal question, Vodka found it best to save the questioning for later. "My mother wanted me to be a good husband one day, so I had to practice with my sister. And her friends. Guess I still remember some of it."

"A good husband…" Gin mused, mainly focused on his work. "This probably wasn't what she had in mind, is it?"

Vodka stopped braiding, snapping in a barrette to keep the half-finished plait in place. It may have been a bad decision, considering how the hour was just getting later but he decided to get a half mug of coffee before continuing. He drank some before returning to work. "No," He said, setting the barrette aside, answering Gin's rhetorical question. "She probably didn't think of this."

They sat for a while, both too involved in their own work to think of anything to say. This was broken by Vodka when the braid was nearing completion. "Do you think we'll be ready in time?" He asked, not looking up. "Vermouth seemed to be a bit…concerned about it."

"Of course. I've been doing some extra research on weddings, that's all."

"Find out somethin' interesting?"

"I learned more about wedding vows, found myself thinking about how they apply to us," Gin paused for a second, before continuing. "Especially, 'til death do us part.'"

Something fluttered in Vodka then. Pieces of a puzzle were starting to fall in place then; scraps of conversation, Vermouth's cryptic and not so cryptic words, his own late night thoughts, Gin's mood over the past weeks…it seemed to be impossible but the evidence kept piling up. It really seemed like something could be going between them, something deeper than their original partnership…

Gin continued his thought. "Of course, that death would be yours. When I kill you, that is." With a sideways glance at his partner, he concluded.

"It was just a joke, don't get hung up on it," Finishing with a drink of coffee, Gin could feel his cheeks flare with a low degree of heat. "Are you nearly done?"

In response, Vodka tied the ribbon, a purple one, around the thick elastic. The whole effect was pretty much what he was aiming for, something elegant yet simple enough to be convenient. Gin ran his fingers down the braid, which rested across his chest. He looked at said chest for a moment, realizing he needed to figure how best to conceal it. "I'm sure it'll do," He said, shifting his focus on the braid. "Thanks. S'better than what I could do."

Shrugging, Vodka moved his chair back to the other side of the table. "It should work okay," He filled the box with the unused materials, made sure it was somewhat organized, and put the lid on it. He tried to put the lid on any leftover thoughts about Gin's earlier quip. Those could wait for later.

Switching over to a business mood, Gin displayed the laptop screen, which in turn was displaying a detailed calendar. "We have eight days now, given the new deadline. As you can see, it'll be tight around our already full schedule. If we get our suits tomorrow, and each practice our dancing and back stories on our own time, we should be on track."

Vodka nodded, looking over the details, drinking some coffee. "Any updates, changes, from human resources? Or, rather, Vermouth?"

"Apparently our backstories changed slightly; instead of distant cousins to the bride, we're now her step-brother's old roommates from law school. Don't ask me why that changed. And instead of a black tie, it's now a creative black tie event."

"Makes sense," He said, squinting at the calendar's tiny font. "It's a modern age and all that. Seems to be easy enough. Dancing shouldn't be too difficult, the hardest part would be finding someone to dance with if we want to blend in with it all."

Turning the laptop back towards him, Gin started to type some more. "According to the timeline of the event we've been provided, that seems like the best time to approach the target, Himari Robbins. I'll slip away whenever I see an opening, and then we can just wait the rest of the night out. Should be simple."

Once he finished his coffee, Vodka rinsed his mug out, leaving it on the counter. "That's it, right? I want to get a reasonable night's sleep for once."

"Go ahead, I'm going to finish those reports tonight."

"Okay, see you in the morning. Eight, right?"

"Right."

Vodka slipped into his room, safely alone as he clicked his door shut. He didn't bother turning on a light as he undressed, and slipped into bed under the cover of darkness. Stretching his legs out, he felt something slip off the bed, skittering onto the floor. Heart beating faster than usual, he turned on the light to see what it was.

Carefully stepping onto the floor lightly, he sighed with relief as he realized it was just a package of cookies. He forgot he bought them today, a little treat just because he felt like it. Hoping Gin didn't see them, Vodka slid them under the bed, put his sunglasses on the bedside table, and turned the light off.

Of course, when he was alone, in the dark, with nothing but his thoughts, the day came rushing back to him. The reports, Champagne, Marissa, the grocery store, the pharmacist, more reports, dinner, Vermouth, and of course, both finally and throughout the day, there was Gin. Vodka groaned, willing himself to try and forget everything. His feelings, his half done conclusions, everything Vermouth said, every unanswered question he had. All of it, he wanted to forget it all.

As sleep threatened to overcome him, Vodka found himself thinking once again, about Gin's latest remark about his unavoidable death. Gin could have killed him a long time ago, and there were no shortage of ways it could be done. There was nothing, no reason, for keeping someone alive who has been known to fail. So, why hasn't Gin just done it yet? Why was he left alive?

Vodka struggled with these thoughts and eventually fell asleep, while Gin struggled through both his thoughts and his work. He was far from sleep, which wasn't all that uncommon for him. Sleep was a waste, that's what his instructors used to drill into him. But it wasn't the past that consumed his thoughts tonight, nor was it the work that laid before. It was his former bedfellow, Vermouth. Shoving his laptop aside, Gin rested his head in his hands, trying to get to grips with things.

It was clear that she was playing him, he knew that much. This job wasn't nearly as important as she kept on making it out to be. Damn bitch. She had too much fun in nosing around people's personal lives. He noticed all the little conversations she had with Vodka, although he didn't care to find out exactly what those meant. She was alluding him, something that didn't happen for a long time; usually, he could piece together her little schemes. Vermouth's been at it for weeks now, even before they got their assignment, hopefully, things could start getting back to normal after the damn thing was done. Seemed like it made everyone jumpy.

He looked at his laptop without seeing it. The work had to be done, and it had to be done soon if they wanted any chance of submitting them in time for the deadline. Pulling the laptop closer again, he filled in one report, and then two more, before he had to admit that his body demanded sleep. Closing his laptop, Gin slipped into his room, only taking off his pants before getting into bed. Sleep came easily for once, so easily that he didn't even realize that he forgot to take out his braid.

The morning sun arose quicker than either man either expected or wanted, meaning their alarms went off shortly after. The stress of yesterday still remained, leading Vodka wanting to cuddle deeper into his sheets. Knowing the negative consequences would far outweigh the positive, he reluctantly tossed off his covers to take a quick shower. Across the hall, Gin was already dressed, trying to work out the tangles his overnight braid cost him. As it was his hair had an unwanted wave to it now, giving his appearance a different effect. It might lead people to think he actually cared about it. Putting that aside, Gin left his room, going to the kitchen to get something to eat.

That something turned out to be a granola bar and some juice. He would have made coffee but vague memories of what happened last time stopped him. Vodka, feeling refreshed from his early shower, also joined Gin in breakfast. Not feeling too fancy, he just made a couple slices of toast to go with a quick cup of tea. Besides a good morning and the odd piece of business, they didn't talk about much. The same could go for their drive into work; once again, Gin drove. They were slipping into their old routine it seemed.

Nothing interesting happened during the few hours spent at the office, just some meetings accompanied by paperwork. They had a small run in with Chianti, who, in her own way wished them good luck for their upcoming assignment. She was very snarky about the whole matter, but that was just Chianti's regular form of speaking.

After those hours of work-work, they had to take the rest of the afternoon off, to do one of the many things they had to do for their formal event. Suit shopping. "This looks like the place," Vodka commented, parking in front of a tasteful shop. Gin let him drive this time. Maybe things weren't going back to the way they were just yet.

Checking the address against the paper Vermouth gave him, Gin nodded, leading the way into the store. Sure enough, it did seem to be a suit supplier, given the elegant displays of the various parts to suits. The store also seemed to be empty, save the store's owner and his assistant. "Welcome," The former called, briefly glancing at the ledger he held. "My one o'clock I assume, Mr Hashimoto and Mr Fukui? Excellent."

As the shopkeeper's assistant ushered them into their own private dressing rooms, each already with a selection of suit choices, Vodka had to wonder about their new shed names as often as snakes shed their skins it seemed like, although the latest two seemed familiar. He pondered it as he undressed, and it was only when he finished dressing in the first suit that he placed the names. They were the new names chosen by human resources for their latest assignment. Makes sense they would start using them now, although he couldn't remember if he was meant to be Hashimoto or Fukui. That seemed to be something worth looking into. He took a glance in the mirror, making sure his bowtie was straight; he was more used to ties after all. This…thing looked too friendly for his taste, with its white flowers printed on black fabric. The rest of the suit was fine, although the white shirt was brighter than what he was expecting.

He left his dressing room just as Gin did. "You look…nice," Vodka offered, looking at the grey suit his partner sported. Not often they wore something different, and the white shirt was a sharp contrast to Gin's average look. Pairing it with a pale purple, lavender maybe, tie accented with small silver flowers was even more over the top. But, he did mean what he said. The look was nice.

Gin may have been about to speak, but whatever he would have said was lost, as the shop assistant ushered them into the main area of the store. The owner, in turn, ushered them to stand on a raised platform, surrounded by mirrors. Vodka stared at his reflections, all at slightly different angles. The effect was highly unnerving, and if he stood there for a moment longer, his mind would have gone to some existential places. Thankfully that was avoided, in favour of the owner inspecting them himself.

"It's not normally the case the first suits are the best but, what do you know," Shrugging, the owner tilted his head as he adjusted Gin's tie slightly. "What do you think?"

"They'll do," Gin said with an uncomfortable edge in his voice, as he lightly grasped the tie's knot. Vodka nodded in agreement, not wanting to say the wrong thing. After some more polite conversation, they left to change into their regular clothes as the assistant started to ring up their purchases. For financial reasons, they were only renting the outfits and planned to return them the day after the event. Once they emerged from the dressing rooms, the store assistant disappeared to pack the garments, as the owner completed the transaction.

"I think you two made the right choice, suit wise," He smoothly said, lightly tapping at the register's keys. "They look nice together. You two really do make a good match."

Muttering some sort of reply under his breath, Gin tried to blame his slightly shaking hands on the store's cooler temperature. Beside him, Vodka blamed his warm cheeks on the store's warmer temperature. They were both lying to themselves. The store was a moderate temperature.

After the purchase, the drive home was another quiet one. Gin did drive once again, but he also carried both suits, now safely in garment bags all the way upstairs to their apartment. He draped them over a kitchen chair before taking off his outerwear, as Vodka did the same, before moving to the kitchen. "Coffee?" He offered, gesturing to the pot.

"Not right now. I have to start working on preparations, and I recommend you do the same." With that, Gin selected his suit and went to his room. The door closed firmly behind him. Feeling oddly put out, Vodka took his own suit to his room, along with a sheaf of papers relating to the assignment details. More specifically, he intended to do some research and devise some talking points. Their table, according to a seating plan, consisted of them, a couple that were related to the groom, and another couple who were connected to the bride.

Sitting on his bed, Vodka flipped through the papers, making notes whenever he saw fit. It appeared that he was meant to be Shirou Fukui, a thirty-three year old single man. Shouldn't be too hard to get into that character given he was only one year older. He spent a good amount of time looking through sample conversations and conjuring his own. The silence was unbroken, until he heard some muffled swears from Gin's room, along with a crash and a thud.

Curiosity once again getting the better of him, Vodka lightly knocked on the door, before letting himself in. It was a good thing he got used to stifling his laughter because it took a lot of restraint to stop himself. Gin appeared to be on the floor, tangled in the cord of a floor lamp. The lamp itself was on its side, collapsed beside an upturned bedside table. Faint music came from a laptop perched on the bed, which was playing a video that seemed to be a dancing tutorial.

"It's harder than it looks," Gin muttered, trying to untangle himself. To Vodka's credit, he didn't say anything at first, just uprighted the lamp, the bedside table, and his partner, biting back a smile while he did so. When he first became Gin's partner, it seemed like he was worse at everything. Now, it looked like the tables were shifting again.

"So, uh, it's pretty hard to practice this kind of thing without a partner, you know." He said, willing himself to make eye contact. "Need a hand?"

After a moment, Gin nodded, and stepped closer, allowing Vodka to take the lead. They spent the greater part of the day like that, dancing, being supported in the other's embrace. As awkward as it was at first, it became more and more natural. It almost felt like they belonged like this; together.

"No, your hand should go on my right hip, not the left."

"Where do I look?"

"I think eye contact is the best bet. Just make sure you don't, _ow,_ step on their foot. Like that."

"Sorry."

"I'll live…for now, I guess."

"Heh, yeah. For now."


	3. Chapter 3

April 22nd. The date came relatively quickly, given that office work blurred the days together. When you were killing someone every day, the days stood out from each other. It just wasn't the same when all you did was paperwork every day. One advantage was the sleep though, for the first time in weeks Vodka actually felt well rested most of the time.

On the morning of the 22nd, thereabouts six forty, he was enjoying the benefits of sleep, when his phone woke him up. Rousing himself out of sleep, he fumbled on the nightstand for his phone and answered it, "Hello?" He said, groggily trying to sound awake. This was further accomplished when he heard Gin's voice blast out of the phone.

"Vodka, you bastard! It's already half past noon, you're going to ruin everything at this rate!"

As Vodka attempted to process this information, self-deprecating thoughts running rampant in his mind, he heard a laugh over the phone. A familiar and very much feminine laugh. "Vermouth?" He guessed, rubbing his eyes. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it is. Good morning. Just wanted to play a little joke, get your blood pumping."

Groaning, he slipped on his sunglasses, struggling to do so with one hand. "Yeah, well, I see you've taken your "I'm going to be a jerk today" pills early." He pulled off the covers to reach the window blinds, snapping them open so the early morning light spilt into the room. Or at least, it would have if he didn't protect his eyes from such things. This way he could be in bed for a bit longer, without the danger of falling back asleep.

"I see your comebacks aren't the best in the morning," Vermouth snarked. "Anyway, how're you feeling? The big day's today after all."

"Gee. I didn't realize. Thanks for reminding me."

"Chain of command, Vodka, chain of command."

"Fine," He sighed, looking at the garment bag that hung on his closet's' ajar door. "I'm scared shitless, as always. It's a big event, I have to wear stuff I'm not used to, and I have to _dance_. There, are you happy now?"

"I'm never happy, but, thank you, that's what I was going for. And don't worry, you're going to be fine. You're not actually an amateur anymore."

"Yeah, but that makes my mistakes even worse because I'm supposed to know how to do all of this now."

"Easy, easy. Gin and I can cover for you. You're not going even going anywhere near the target, yet alone talk to her, so that's a weight off."

"Once again, why do I even need to go?"

"To make sure Gin behaves himself. I can't manage both him and the target at the same time, after all. Just get him through the event will you?"

"Sure, sure," Vodka glanced over at his clock which was clicking its way towards seven. Sure, the event didn't start until two, but something was bound to go wrong. "Look, I gotta get going."

"Okay, I'll let you go," Vermouth paused before elaborating on a thought. "Vodka, I'm actually kind of proud. Of you. Your development hasn't exactly gone unnoticed…it's impressive, considering your background."

Bristling at her last offhandoffhanded remark, Vodka couldn't resist a little dig. "Thank you. I would say I couldn't have done it without you, but I know I could have. Because I did."

"Sure, whatever you say." Vodka could practically hear her eyes rolling. "I got to go myself, I need to feed the cat."

"But you don't even have a cat."

"I do now. Got her yesterday, after our little dinner. Name's Floofer. Anyway, I'll be seeing you in the afternoon, in one of my expert disguises of course."

After they said their final goodbyes, Vodka slipped down into his bed coversbedcovers, putting his phone on the nightstand. Staring up at the ceiling he wondered exactly how the day would play out. In twelve hours, give or take, he would be back in his bed, likely staring up at the same crack in the ceiling. What happened in between he had no chance of even guessing at.

He also had no idea what was going on across the hall, in Gin's room. Gin, who now sported the same pants as yesterday paired with a fresh black shirt, sat on his own bed, strewn with paperwork. "We got the outfits, yes, the backstories, yes, the times, yes, the invitations, yes, the gift…" He looked around his room as his eyes slowly widened.

Pacing the floor space, Gin thought for a bit. Yes, they needed to get a gift. And get one fast. Could they get something from their apartment? No, everything in there was either needed, too shabby, or technically illegal. Some things were even all three of those. Sitting on his bed again, Gin wracked his brain for a few more minutes, before flat out giving up.

He knocked at Vodka's door, before entering. "We have a problem," He announced, looking at his partner, who was still half asleep. "We forgot to get a gift."

"A gift, huh?" Vodka half asked half murmured, sitting up to stretch. The action resulted in his blanket slipping away from him, revealing his torso to both the air and Gin's eyes. Vodka either didn't notice or didn't care. "Okay, get some coffee going, and I'll get dressed. Guess we need to go shopping."

Five minutes later, they were sitting in the chairs by the window, plotting out the day. After he got dressed, Vodka helped Gin with the coffee, which they were now both drinking. "Do we have to get them a gift?" Vodka asked, thinking the situation through a bit more. "I mean, it's not even their wedding, it's their…pre-wedding thing."

"If you read the case file, you would know this. Because a lot of their relatives and contacts in Japan weren't able to make the overseas trip to their actual wedding, this was their compromise. Hence, we need a gift."

Vodka sunk a bit lower in his chair. His first mistake of the day, already made. "Well, why not some flowers? They're a staple at these things, right?"

"Sure, I guess," Gin said dismissively, before drinking some coffee. "They would be dead in two weeks though. Should probably get something lasting too."

By the time they finished their coffee, neither one of them could think of anything solid. So, they decided just to go out to buy some flowers and maybe they'll find something else along the way. Gin went to go get dressed in something a bit warmer, as Vodka tried to find something to eat. About five minutes later they were ready to leave. "I see your definition of casual is different than most," Vodka commented as he got his wallet. "Is that a vest?"

Looking down at himself, Gin shrugged. "I think so, yeah. You ready to leave?" With a nod from his partner, they headed out the door, Gin leading the way down the stairs.

Because it seemed to be a nice enough day, and they didn't want to deal with the hassle of parking, they started to walk. The sidewalk was busy enough that they could talk a bit more freely; if it had been quieter then the possibility of actually being understood would be higher. "So," Gin began, feeling the warmth of the sun. "Gifts."

"Mhm. Gifts." Vodka said, keeping an eye out for any interesting stores, or hopefully a florist. "Since we're supposed to be friends of the bride do we just get something for her?"

"Makes sense. What would a woman even like for a gift?" On an impulse Gin turned onto a narrower street, lined with small shops and apartments. "What would Vermouth want? Or Chianti? Or…well, there's two options really."

"There's not a lot of women we know, is there," Vodka sighed, thinking through said options. "I guess Vermouth would like some sort of fancy jewellery."

"Our budget would not like that, however. That's something else to consider. "

Vodka never really knew what exactly happened to the money they earned from work. Sure, some of it had to go into paying rent and their other living expenses but still. However, now wasn't exactly the best time to ponder their financial situation. "What about something generic like a journal or…" His thought trailed off as he caught Gin dipping down slightly before carrying on walking. Turning slightly, he saw a small dog sat on the sidewalk. A Shiba by the look of things.

Turning back to Gin, he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. "Did you just pet that dog?"

"No, I didn't even see there was a dog."

"Ok, then why is the dog following us?"

Both of them stopped, to look at the small dog that was happily looking up at them. It was young, definitely a puppy. Realizing it wasn't in their best interest to stop in the middle of the sidewalk, they veered off to the side, with the dog happily following them. Gin crouched to study the dog, while also giving it a couple of pats. "There's a collar," He remarked, flipping the tag. "Apparently his name's Rascal."

"If there's a collar, maybe it's lost," Vodka suggested, bending down to pet Rascal. "Could mean some petty cash for us. Is the address close?"

Gin nodded, and so they headed off in what they hoped to be the right direction. At first, they just let Rascal trot behind them but after losing him temporarily to a group of schoolchildren, Gin carefully picked him up. "You sure this is okay?" Vodka whispered as several tourists pointed at them with cameras. "We're kind of getting some attention here."

"It's fine, it's not anything we can't handle."

With a nod, Vodka backed off. He smiled a bit to himself; apparently, Gin had a small soft spot for dogs. It wasn't often that the word 'we' was used too…maybe their partnership was really starting to shift. Into what, Vodka wasn't exactly sure, but so far, it didn't seem too bad.

After explaining why they were here, Apartment 36B which appeared to be Rascal's home buzzed them in. The door to said apartment was already open, with an anxious boy in the doorway. "Rascal!" He squealed, looking up in awe. "You found him!"

Rascal yapped and tried to squirm his way out of Gin's arms. Gin then delicately placed the dog on the floor, and both Rascal and the boy raced into the apartment. An elderly woman, quite possibly the child's grandmother came to the door. After the necessary exchange of thanks and the attempted refusal of any gifts, Gin and Vodka left, carrying both a bouquet of flowers along with four thousand yen.

"That didn't go too badly," Vodka remarked, smelling the hot pink flower blossoms. "Saved us buying some flowers."

Gin only nodded in response. His attitude seemed to be falling back into his default, which of course, was cool and distant. Taking note of this, Vodka didn't try to make any more conversation as they hit the sidewalk and started walking towards home. That is until he spotted a small shop from the corner of his eye. A curio shop by the looks of things, one that might just have the gift they were looking for. On impulse, he nudged Gin and headed in.

The store was a cramped one, but it also seemed to be bursting at the seams with various shelves and cabinets of various objects and trinkets. Although the store seemed small, it was deeper than most, and easily cost them half an hour of time as they searched through the knickknacks. Vodka started to feel like the detour wouldn't be worthwhile after all until Gin called him over to a small desk.

"What are these?" Gin asked, holding up a small rectangular object. The main drawer of the desk was open and full of them.

"Folding fans," Vodka answered, demonstrating how it unfolded. This one had a picture of a mountain at sunrise printed onto one side. "Wouldn't make a bad gift actually."

They each unfolded a couple, trying to find something that would work. Gin was the one that found the winning option; a black one with a display of stars, a crescent moon, and silver leaves on it. As he went to pay, Vodka poked around the store a bit more, until he found himself nestled in an alcove lined with mirrors. Clutching the flowers to his chest, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable, staring back at the dozens of reflections of himself.

He felt forced to come to terms with some things, things he rather not think about. The late night thoughts of his. The way he felt whenever Gin touched him. The tingle he got inside whenever Gin even looked his way. A lot of factors were staring him in the face, and if he considered himself to be a weaker man, he would have confronted them right then and there. But he did instead what he had done so many times before. Hiding. Hide the bad choices he made, hide his mistakes, his past, his thoughts, his feelings, his _everything_. Because really, what was he doing? Buying a gift for a woman he never met, before he snuck into what might as well be her wedding so that his partner could try and convince her to work for a criminal organization. His partner barely trusted him, his closest friend was a bitchy superior who just liked using him as a plaything, he cut off all ties with his family long ago; if he died the next day, who would miss him?

Shaking his head to try and clear his mind of these thoughts, Vodka left the alcove, setting out to find Gin. Gin, who was waiting for him by the front desk, a gift-wrapped package in his hand. "Ready to leave?" He asked, tossing the package a little ways before catching it. Instead of speaking, Vodka did a nod of his own. They left the store, for the first and probably last time.

The walk home was quiet between them, as the weather grew overcast and slightly colder. Time slipped by easily; by the time they reached their apartment, it was nearly half past nine. Which of course meant they still had around three and a half hours before they even needed to start getting ready, since they planned to leave at ten past one. Vodka dropped the flowers into a half-filled glass of water and placed it by the wrapped gift on the kitchen table. Both he and Gin headed to their respective rooms.

Three hours never passed so slowly. Both of them were just thinking; of the mission, of what could go wrong, of what needed to be done, and most importantly, of each other. Gin wasn't exactly worried about fitting into the scene. He was a shitty actor, sure, but he could smile his way through things alright. Talking to Himari, the target, might prove to be a bit challenging but Vermouth did say she could be an emergency back up. He still wasn't sure why three of them were going to one recruitment, but whenever he asked, she just winked, said she got everything under control. Vermouth was one hell of an enigma when she wanted to be. From what he could piece together, she seemed to be hinting towards something between him and Vodka. What that was exactly, he didn't have the faintest idea.

On the other side of the apartment, Vodka also was largely in the dark about Vermouth's schemes. He knew that he was feeling something different when he looked at Gin, and he knew that Vermouth was hinting, blatantly at sometimes, that their relationship could change. But why? Why did she even care about all of this? Or him, even? Vermouth always treated him like some sort pet, something cute that could easily be disposed of. So why the sudden change?

These thoughts carried on plaguing them, as the seconds turned into minutes and as the minutes turned into hours. Before they knew it, the clock hit noon, and it was time to get ready. As they showered, and dressed carefully into their suits, thoughts of each other melted away into general worries and anxieties of what is to come. They each looked the part like they were ready for their assignment, but neither felt prepared enough. However, time was as unforgiving as ever, and before long they were double checking everything was ready.

"You got the invitations?" Vodka asked, carefully tying a black ribbon around the flowers to keep them together. Courtesy of Vermouth's box of hair accessories, of course.

Gin played with his braid, trying to get it to lie nicely. "Yeah, in my jacket pocket. You ready to leave?"

"Sure."

And with a final look around to make sure they didn't forget anything, they left. With gifts in hand and nerves in heart, they locked the door and headed for the car. When Gin slipped into the driver's seat, Vodka couldn't complain, even to himself. The drive was going to be a long and awkward one, it was best he didn't drive this time.

True to his prediction, the forty minute trip felt like a lifetime, which did give him some time to look out the window. Sure, the sun from the morning was gone, and the clouds looked like it was about to throw it down with rain, but it was preferred to having to talk about anything. The tense atmosphere in the car closely matched that of the weather.

As per the plan, Gin pulled into a small lot, about five minutes from their destination; the Unlong. The walk both let them back a more private entrance and gave them a bit of extra time to collect their thoughts. Before he left the car, Vodka slipped his sunglasses into the inside pocket of his jacket, in favour of his eye drops. Luckily, he remembered the procedure for putting them in, and it went smoothly. Still, the jump from with sunglasses to without, even if the day was overcast, was a stark difference. A manageable difference but nevertheless, a difference.

Up until they entered the venue, everything was going according to plan. Vodka had the gifts, Gin had their invitations, and everything seemed to be working out well. That is until they entered said venue and were met with what seemed to be an army of photographers with camera flashes. As Vodka seriously considered diving for either his sunglasses or the door, Gin smoothly led him through the crowd, and into a much darker section of the lobby.

There wasn't any time to reflect on this, however, as before them stood two tables; one meant for checking in, and the other meant for gifts. Gin went to the first, Vodka to the second. After getting the flowers into a vase, and after getting their seating assignments figured out, they were both admitted into the main ballroom. Taro Hashimoto and Shirou Fukui were about to make their official debut.

The Unlong did not often disappoint when it came to luxury, and their grand ballroom was no exception. A ring of circular and square tables, each with a slightly different tasteful colour scheme, surrounded the main dancing area. All the way across the room from the entrance was a long rectangular table, clearly meant for the bride, groom, and close family. Gin led the way to Table 17, which already had the other two couples seated.

Introductions were done easily, and polite conversation about the variety of teas went as smoothly as it could have. Before long, a bell rang from the head table, signalling the beginning of the welcoming remarks. "Hello everyone!" A small dark-haired woman smiled and waved to the sizable audience. "I'm Himari, as you know, and this is my soon to be husband, Chris!"

A smattering of applause followed these introductions. After the happy couple, both wished their guests a happy party and announced they would be opening their gifts during the event, smartly dressed waiters began to make their rounds to take people's tea orders. After their tables relayed their orders, with Gin choosing a black cherry tea and Vodka selecting watermelon, one of the women at their table leaned closer to Vodka.

"So, how are you and Hashimoto related? I understand you were both Himari's step brother's roommates, back at law school?"

"Yes," Vodka said, clearing his throat. "We're partners now, have been for four years now."

If Vodka was a smidge more attentive, he could have picked up on Gin's look and slight kick in the ankle. He could have remembered that the term 'partners' especially in the context of two men, could have a very different meaning. But he wasn't that attentive, and he blindly assumed that it would be understood that he meant partners in the lawyer sense.

The husband of the second couple at the table smiled fondly at them, patting his wife's hand. "Oh, that's nice. Our daughter just got engaged to her girlfriend of seven years."

As the rest of the table began to talk about that, and of weddings and children, Vodka realized his mistake. He looked to Gin, to try and figure out a way to salvage it, but Gin merely placed his hand on Vodka's and smiled. Leaning in closer, Gin whispered, "Don't worry about it. Go with it, maintain it."

Vodka was embarrassed, nothing could change that, but as Gin gently squeezed his hand, he couldn't help but feel a rush of pleasure. Well, he thought, smiling back at Gin, this is going to be an interesting assignment alright.

They kept up the charade pretty well, considering much of it was mere improvisation, but they both sighed with relief once the tea service was served. Most of the conversation died down, save for a couple polite murmurings of how delightful the peach tarts were. Speaking of said peach tarts, Vodka found it in his best interest to advise Gin on that matter. "Hold it from the bottom," He hissed, trying to be quiet. "You'll break it if you hold too tight on the sides. Two bites, not one."

A bit bewildered by all of this, Gin nodded, carefully setting the tart down on the small plate before him. He watched as Vodka effortlessly poured a cup of tea, straining out the tea leaves as he did so. He honestly never imagined Vodka could be better than him at an assignment, but as the tea service went on, that indeed proved to the case.

Although conversation was a bit of an awkward territory for him, it remained clear that Vodka knew the basics of fitting into high society. Gin merely took a sip of his own tea, wincing as he tasted the bitterness of the leaves he didn't filter out. The party went on as smoothly as it could be, given that they did accidentally complicate their own backstories. Once the last drops of tea rolled out of the spouts of the various teapots, and as the last of the tarts were eaten, the next portion of the event began.

Himari and her almost-husband, Chris, gracefully took to the dance floor. As the band, which set up as the guests dined, began their slow waltz-like tune, Chris kissed Himari's hand, and they started to dance. As everyone cooed at seeing the elegant pair swirling around, Vodka was forced to come to a realization. Now that they were declared a couple, he and Gin would have to dance together. In front of dozens of strangers, one of whom was their target. If something went wrong here, it could put their entire mission at risk. The waste of energy, resources, and not to mention the risk of being spotted, would all be enormous.

Still, when the floor was opened to the public, Vodka had to smile as Gin offered his hand. They, along with a great number of other guests, took their place on the floor and got into position. Then when the music swelled, they began to dance. It really shouldn't have been much different, considering they moved through the steps just a couple of days past. But, the atmosphere, their attire, the gaze of strangers…all of it changed the experience.

Not to mention, Vodka wasn't wearing his sunglasses this time. So when Gin made eye contact, as per his limited training, he was gazing into Vodka's eyes. It wasn't the first time Gin seen them, he knew that, but still Vodka couldn't help but feel more than a little bit uncomfortable with the whole thing. Gin was smiling at him, thanks to their cover story, which was something that definitely didn't happen often and didn't help ease the awkwardness of the situation.

Gin slightly tilted his head towards the centre of the crowd, indicating Himari and Chris. They began, very carefully, to twist and turn their way towards them. It took a while longer than expected, but Gin was able to drink in Himari's profile, as she laughed and clung to her partner. Shortly after, the band triumphantly finished their first song, and the ballroom burst into applause. Vodka breathed another sigh of relief, thinking that the worst of this was over until he glanced around to see every romantically inclined couple kissing.

Before he could do anything, maybe just a small peck on the lips, Gin grabbed his face, pulled him closer, and kissed him. The kiss seemed to last for an eternity, the tastes of cigarettes blending into the sweetness of the tarts they just ate. When it was over, Vodka just looked at Gin with shock. He couldn't hide his expression even if he wanted to. Years of concealed feelings and thoughts were peeling away from him, revealing a very painful truth. But that truth couldn't be realized. Not just yet, especially considering their present situation.

People around them were laughing a bit, making some remarks to each other. One man called out to Himari, saying that the happy couple had some competition in terms of being the cutest around. As the nearby crowd had a good laugh, Gin leaned in to whisper in Vodka's ear, "I'm going to meet the target, act normally."

As Gin disappeared into the crowd of well-dressed party guests, Vodka slunk to the edge of the dance floor. A waiter was going by, carrying a tray of champagne flutes. He grabbed one, and quickly drained it. Sure, it might not be the normal behaviour of Shirou Fukui but it sure as hell was for Vodka. He clutched the glass before realizing he could very likely break it and quickly set it down on the closest table. Gin would be a while, given that the typical recruitment conversation lasted up to ten minutes, so he decided to sit down, gather his thoughts.

Unfortunately, his table was still an occupied one. The couple with the lesbian daughter seemed to be sitting out the dances in favour of drinking some more tea. So, in response, Vodka played the part he had to; he drank some tea, smiled a lot, and listened to this couple's various stories about their neighbourhood, their daughter, and their overall life. Considering alarms were still blaring in his thoughts about his latest kiss, his partner, and everything that generally was going on.

Vodka just finished drinking a cup of tea when he blinked. Something uncomfortable was happening to his eyes. It took him a moment to realize that the eye drops must have dried out. Hastily excusing himself, he slipped through the ballroom. The air was cooler out there, given how the hallway was deserted, and the unisex bathroom was very much the same.

However, although he thought he was alone, this was not the case. Proven when he washed his hands, and a stall door clicked open. Glancing up, Vodka could see Himari reflected in the mirror. Both were surprised, but she both recovered and spoke first. "Oh!" She said pleasantly, going to the sink, heels lightly tapping against the tile floor. "You're Fukui, correct? I just finished speaking with your partner."

She scrubbed at her hands before continuing, still with a smile on her face. "I'm very excited about that business he mentioned. I didn't realize there was a law firm so closely related to the study of subatomic particles."

Leaning against the counter, she pulled a small pink handkerchief from her purse, to dry her hands. "I'm so flattered to be considered for such a position! I mean, he said my research could help to shape the next phase of our world…who wouldn't want to be a part of that?"

Vodka nodded as she continued to gush about how happy she was, and how happy Chris was, and how she could hardly wait to get married and get all the details figured out for her new assignment. She was an extremely happy woman, smiling and giggling, overall, she seemed to be the definition of happiness. The only time her smile dropped was when she checked the time. "Oh, I'm sorry," She apologized, touching up her lipstick in the mirror. "I just corralled you in here! Guess I should head back to the party…"

As she reached the door, she turned to face Vodka. Again, the smile returned, this one a bit sweeter, less giddy. "I opened your gift, by the way," She said, shyly. "I adore sensu, you know, and that one was simply breathtaking. Thank you, and I hope we can talk at work sometime." With that, Himari exited the restroom, heading back into her party.

Vodka checked to make sure he really was alone this time, before turning to face the mirror. He stared at himself and felt just as he did earlier that day. His reflection may have been different now, but his thoughts were still very much the same. He had to wonder exactly what Gin told her, what lies and half-truths were told to get her on their side. She will find out what they were using her research for eventually, and although Vodka didn't know the exact details himself, he knew that it couldn't be for a morally good reason.

He clutched the edge of the counter tightly. That wouldn't break easily. Truths were everywhere, both in their universe and at this party. Something hit him, a realization. Another sickening realization. Himari Robbins might not even live to see the day of her first wedding anniversary. With that and a final look at himself, Vodka dried his hands and left. He was forced to accept the truth. He couldn't conceal it, not now.

Back at Table 17, the couple that was there before left, and Gin was seated. With only a small amount of hesitation, Vodka sat beside him. No words were shared between them, as they looked over at the remains of their high tea, as they heard and saw the happiness of their fellow party guests. It wasn't the time for words. Will it ever?

Before Vodka could spiral into another deep thinking session that would probably give him a headache, someone joined them at the table. "Hey, hey, my old roomies!" The young man said with a grin, pulling up a chair so he could sit between them. "How have ya been, it's been ages, hasn't it?"

Gin looked at their new table matetablemate with a look of disgust he reserved only for Vermouth. More specifically, whenever Vermouth was in one of her disguises. Seeing the look, this 'stranger', rolled their eyes, and the voice that came out in a whisper was more certainly Vermouth's, "Sheesh, either I'm slipping or you're getting smarter. Not sure what's worse." As quickly as she became herself, Vermouth became her disguise, Himari's stepbrother. Reaching out, she grabbed onto Gin's hand.

"Come on, Taro, let's dance! Humour me, like you used to."

Before Gin, or Vodka for that matter could say anything, Vermouth already whisked Gin away from the table, therefore leaving Vodka alone. He sat for a minute or two, tapping his finger to the beat of the light music. He ate a leftover cream puffcreampuff. He tried not to think about anything too pressing or philosophical. He checked his watch; five thirteen. Slightly more than an hour before the event drew to a close. A lot of time to kill, especially when left alone. However, he really wasn't in the mood for some awkward and polite conversation about the couple of honour.

He observed the dancing scene carefully, just to give himself something to focus on. Vermouth seemed to be a decent dancer; not surprising given her preference towards higher society. In contrast, Gin's steps were wilted, compared to the first dance. That also made sense, there was no way he could fully give himself to their dance because he didn't trust Vermouth an inch. Vodka stopped for a minute. If Gin could fully commit himself to the dance with Vodka, would that mean that…

"Hey!" A cheerful voice said. Vermouth somehow found her way to the table, her voice still disguised. "Someone took Gi-, er, Taro, off my hands."

Scooting her chair closer, so that they could talk privately, Vermouth let her voice drop back to normal. "So. I saw what happened. Before, I mean. Your dance…your kiss."

Vodka looked away, his fingers finding and holding onto a teaspoon. He couldn't say anything to that. After weeks of cryptic and hushed words, now Vermouth wanted to talk in the open? He couldn't bring himself to speak. He wasn't sure even what he would say. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your perspective, Vermouth wasn't deterred. She was going to say her piece.

"I know it's hard. I know," Taking a sharp breath in, Vermouth turned so she could see Gin, now dancing with a woman, while more twittered their way around him. "Trust me, I fucking know about this. I'm-I'm not ashamed. Really, I'm not. It's just-"

"Private," Vodka interrupted, finishing the sentence for her.

"Yeah. Private."

They lapsed into a silence then, a comfortable one. Both of them knew now that they had more in common than previously believed. The puzzle of thoughts, the one Vodka had been struggling with for a solid while, seemed to be finally shifting into place. They sat beside each other, both thinking of what had been and what will come. Time passed easily now. Before long, the band finished their last song, guests were coming back to the tables, and eventually, Vermouth had to duck away, to take her place at the head table.

Gin was the last one to return to Table 17, and he just sat when the closing remarks began. Himari stood first, gave a small speech thanking everyone for attending, and for their meaningful gifts. Chris was next, thanking his beautiful fiancé, soon to be wife. Then Chris' brother, glowing with pride, both for his brother and for his newborn baby. Even Vermouth, in her disguise, gave a small toast to the happy couple. With a round of thanks you to the catering staff, the Unlong staff, and the band, the event was officially ended. Of course, no one could leave right away, everyone had to say goodbye and shake hands and wish their tablemates a safe trip home, and so forth.

By the time Gin and Vodka escaped the Unlong, the time was six thirty-five. Their mission was both completed and successful. So they started walking back to their car, with the sun setting beside them. Vodka was able to put his glasses on, once they were a safe distance away from the other exiting party members.

"Could you drive?" Gin asked when they got to the car.

Vodka was about to reply, before hearing the tiredness in the words. He merely nodded, slid into the driver's seat, and started home. He didn't dare even glance at Gin until they were a good fifteen minutes into their journey. Gin's eyes were closed, and although he was slumped on the seat slightly, his chest was steadily rising and falling.

 _He's sleeping,_ Vodka thought, turning his attention back to the road. _He must be exhausted if he's doing it in front of me._ Thinking back over the past couple days, he couldn't remember if Gin exactly slept all that much. Clearly, he wasn't the only one with something pressing on the mind. Speaking of, for the first time in a long while, Vodka was almost at peace with himself.

It may have been his conversation with Vermouth or Himari. It could have been the dance with Gin. It could have been the kiss with Gin. That last one seemed to be the most likely cause and was easily the thing he would later blame for his mistake.

His mistake, which was made when he successfully pulled and parked at their assigned spot in their apartment, started with waking Gin up, who jolted awake. "Hm?" He said to himself looking out the window while unbuckling his seatbelt. "Home already?"

Knowing this was probably his one and only chance, Vodka grabbed Gin by the arm, cleared his throat, and said, "There's no way I could have done this without you."

Gin processed this for a moment, before giving an answer to Vodka's veiled confession. "Maybe. But I know I could have."

Before he knew it, Vodka was alone again, sitting by himself in the driver's seat. For a moment or two, he was still. Going through what just happened, and trying to understand it. And then, the dam broke. Years of pent-up emotions of anger, sadness, and barely contained desire flowed out of him. He swore. He swore about his family, Vermouth, Himari, all the strangers he only met once. Most of all, with his fingers clutching the steering wheel, he swore about Gin. That bastard of a man whose purpose in life was to destroy and demolish lives.

He swore for a long time until he was short of breath until his heart was beating faster until he felt like was hollowed out. Until he no more to give. So, when he realized he couldn't do anything else here, he left. First the car, then the garage, and the stairwell which then placed him at his apartment's door. He entered, locked the door behind him, got and drank a glass of water from the kitchen. Once he was in his room, Vodka let out a deep breath.

He got undressed, slipped on a pair of sweatpants, and carefully made sure his rental clothes were safely put inside their garment bag. After which, he crossed the room to pull up the window, letting the cool air blow through his room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Vodka unlocked the top drawer of his bedside table. Out of which he pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He smoked two, watching the smoke rise and then dissipate. The room slowly became colder and when he finished his smoking, goosebumps were raised on his arms.

Closing the blind, but still keeping the window open, Vodka sighed. It had been a long and exhausting day. Switching off his lamp, he set his sunglasses aside, made sure his phone was charging and settled in for some sleep. Before he fully committed to the idea, he was struck with a memory. A memory of a fact. That fact being that there's an unopened box of cookies lying under his bed.

Although he spent the entire day eating sweets and although he knew this couldn't fill in the damage his heart took today, Vodka got the box out. And proceeded to eat a good three-quarters of the cookies in the box. Crumbs were probably everywhere, given that he didn't even turn on a light, but for the time being, he just didn't care. The cookies were filling, and although as stated, they didn't do much for his heartache, they did make his brain decide it was time for sleep.

The almost empty box of cookies got slid back under the bed, and Vodka flipped over. It was ridiculously early for him, barely even nine o'clock, but the day had been a long one. Before he properly stopped his train of thought for the night, another fact came to his mind, a fact he then spoke aloud for the very first time.

"Damn it. I'm gay."

Across the hall, Gin was sitting at his desk, still covered with the papers of details for their now completed assignment. He took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, but he still had his dress pants on. The room was dark, only lit by his small desk lamp. He had some leftover paperwork to complete and he then had to complete the mission report. With a sigh, he stood to undress, slipping into a pair of sleep shorts. His braid was still in, now delicately splayed across his bare chest.

Clearing away the clutter, Gin started to fill out the basics of the form. Date, location, time spent, that sort of thing. Easy work. But soon he found himself distracted. As he rested his chin on his hand, his fingers found their way to his lips. As they ran over them, he had a perplexing memory. As much as he tried to work, he kept finding himself thinking about the kiss he shared with Vodka…why did that one feel so _different_?


End file.
